Of Evenings in the Woods
by Band Geek Letter 1
Summary: In an alternate universe, Sarah Phillips hasn't seen James Hiller in seven years. What happens when they're reunited? How about if we add her slightly insane best friend, her supposed true love, and a hungry Henri into the mix?
1. Prologue

Author's Notes: Why hello there. I've been lurking around the Liberty's Kids category for quite some time, so I figured I might as well write one myself. This is slightly based off the great work by William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream, but only some of it.

Disclaimer: Dude, if I owned Liberty's Kids, they would have grown up. And James and Sarah would be in love by now.

Without further ado,

Of Evenings in the Woods

Prologue

* * *

_1776_

James was leaving the following morning. He was finally old enough to fight as a soldier in the Revolutionary war. And we all knew him well enough to know that he would grab the opportunity as soon as possible.

I felt as if a great weight had been thrust upon my shoulders. After all, he was my best friend and the first person I met in America. You would have cried too, wouldn't you?

When I'd gotten word that he was leaving I'd locked myself in my small room. I spent hours upon hours in despair, crying my eyes out. There would be times when the tears would dry, but then they'd start anew. At the time I didn't even know why I was crying so much in the first place.

I'd suspected that I would cry some. Even Henri cried. But he's French. Therefore, easily brought to tears. He was moved when we ran out of flour. I'm telling you, moved without difficulty. Sometimes it's quite funny, actually.

But that is beside the point. The point is, I was crying in my bedroom for hours about _James Hiller_. You heard me right: _James Hiller_. Stop looking at the text that way! I know you are doing it, mysterious reader. I'm writing this story so you don't make the same mistakes I did. Now stop laughing at my misfortune and finish this prologue. Where was I? Oh right: _James Hiller_. I was quite sure that I was slowly losing my insanity because I was crying about the possibility of never seeing James again! After all, it seemed like we hated each other if you just saw us walking down the street to get some ink. Anyways, I attributed my torrential downpour to the fact that Henri was no fun to correct.

He would do whatever I asked without a complaint. When we met him, he was a very impressionable eight-year old. Now he's ten. But he's told me that I'm the closest thing he has to a mother.

James would do the tasks, of course, but he would grumble and mumble the entire time. It was quite amusing.

Back to the point. The tears were falling so fast that I did not hear the door open. I glanced up and saw James's reflection in the mirror.

"Oh, James, it's you," I stammered. I grabbed a clean handkerchief from my nightstand and dried my tears. Or attempted to at least. I was quite unsuccessful. A warning to all, never attempt to stop the flow of tears. When you are truly sad, the waterfall drops anyways.

"Sarah," he began, and I could hear him as a he took a step towards my bent form on the bed. A fresh spout of tears dripped down my face.

"I had no idea my leaving would cause you so much pain."

"In truth, neither did I," I answered. "The tears simply will not stop. I guess correcting your poor grammar has become such a daily occurrence that you will be sorely missed." The tears began to fall even more rapidly than before. I heard his footsteps as he walked around the bed. I felt the mattress sink as his weight came upon it, and suddenly he embraced me.

"I'm going to miss you too," He said. I blinked back tears and saw that he was crying too, and then buried my head in his chest. So we just sat there, hugging and crying. I had to think that we looked like one of the more tearful scenes of those romance novels that Moses enjoys, although every time someone asks him he denies it. (I don't care what he says; Henri saw him and that's good enough for me.) Except of course this was **not** a painful tear jerking romance and I most certainly was _**not**_ in love with James. The very idea was just preposterous! Oh dear, I am rambling again. This account will never get finished if I keep getting side tracked. On with the story.

"I'll be leaving early tomorrow morning. You probably won't be up." Those words only made the tears fall harder.

"Shh, shh…" James comforted me, stroking my head. A queer tingling feeling appeared in the pit of my stomach.

"I promise I'll come back," He said.

"But when will that be?" I wondered.

"I'll write you letters."

"Thank you. For all you've done. I guess this is good bye." I said. I gave him one last hug and then he walked out of the room, leaving me to wallow in my tears. I fell asleep to the rhythmic patter of tears on my pillow. My last thought before drifting off into dreamland was, 'When will these confounded tears stop?'

* * *

The next morning the house was eerily quiet without James's presence. Henri only begged me for food once. I saw on their faces that they pitied me. I did not know why.

"Est-ce que Sarah, je dur il est de perdre votre amour, mais vous savez pourrier nous faire de la nourriture, s'il vous plait?" Henri asked.

"Sure," I answered. Even though I had no idea what he said. My three years with him had taught me some basic French, but I was slow to translate. I did know that faire de la nourriture meant make food. I didn't know what the rest meant.

As I began to make breakfast I began to translate the rest of what Henri had said. Well, I knew perdre meant lose, and votre meant your. I was pretty sure amour meant love. 'Wait a minute…' I thought. Lose… your… love. That's what he said. But what could he possibly mean? I wasn't in love with anyone at the moment, and the only one who'd left recently was James… oh.

I nearly laughed out loud when I figured it out. Henri thought I loved James. As I'd mentioned earlier, the very idea was ridiculous. James was handsome; I admitted to myself. _Blonde hair and blue eyes are amazing in almost any girl's book. To be sure, he's smart, but his grammar is sometimes very poor and he's so opinionated. _

I grabbed an egg and cracked it into the batter. _Yes, James is funny, but he's so bold and brash. But he can be gentlemanly too…_ I reminded myself. I fingered my locket with my free hand. _And he's sweet and honest (most of the time) and… oh. _As I cracked the second egg I came upon a startling revelation, and I cried out.

Henri burst through the door, his thick French accent resounding through the Kitchen.

"Sarah! Are you all right? I heard you scream… la nouriturre est-elle sûre?" he asked. Typical Henri.

"I'm fine, and don't worry, the food is fine too."

"Oh," Henri replied. "Okay." He skipped out of the kitchen and left me to my thoughts, which were beginning to frighten me. For dear reader, I had just realized something most strange. I had fallen in love with James Hiller and no amount of denial would make it go away.


	2. The Spring Ball

Hey, just me. WolfWings97 was kind enough to inform me that I'd made a mistake, and now it is fixed. Thanks!

* * *

_1783_

My corset was killing me. Well, what did I expect? I'd heard tales from the wild yonder about the uncomfortable mess that is the corset, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine it's constricting power. But I digress. You aren't here to read about complaints against high fashion, are you? No. You are present to hear my tale.

You are probably wondering why I was wearing a corset in the first place if I despise them so much. That night I was headed to the Spring Ball, arm in arm with my true love. No! Not James! Whatever gave you that ultimately insane idea?

Me? You've got to be joking. Look, I know I said I loved him…but that was seven years ago. Seven years is a long time not to see someone. He did write, and at first I thought about telling him I loved him, but then my common sense took over. I couldn't very well write: _Oh by the way, I recently discovered that I am in love with you. Please tell me you feel the same way or I shall die. Sincerely yours, Sarah Phillips._ No, that would seem too forward and awkward. So after a while, my love faded away and it was replaced with friendship again, like the blissful days of my youth back in 1773.

My mother moved to the States (I can't really say the colonies anymore. Not with Great Britain having signed the Treaty of Versailles.) to be with me. Together we moved to New York. I missed Henri, Moses and Dr. Franklin a lot, but Mother convinced me that I must become a proper lady.

My next-door neighbor soon became my best friend. Hope Johnson was her name, and she had a new beau almost every week. Hope was a tad bit short, but she made up for her lack of stature with her chocolate brown eyes and deep brunette hair. She never worried about settling down, but I was sure her father would enforce his rule someday. He always seemed like the one to.

Six months ago Mother informed me that I had a suitor. We began a correspondence, I was absolutely positive that I loved Mr. Hoppson. Oh hush, stop yelling at me about how I secretly love James. You know I do not. Now stop! I know you are laughing at me. Do you want to hear my story or not? Very well, I shall continue.

My dress was of deep royal blue, which mother assured me perfectly accented my eyes. I had carefully curled and pinned up my red hair in the latest style, and added a feather. At precisely seven o'clock the carriage pulled in the driveway. I slipped my feet into my pinching slippers and checked my appearance one last time. And with that I walked out the front door, my heart rocketing around inside my chest. I was finally going to meet my love. The night air felt cool against my blazing cheeks, and my shoes clanked against the cobbles as I strolled toward that solitary carriage.

Finally, after what seemed to be hours, I arrived at the carriage door. A servant opened it and I gingerly placed my foot inside, and followed with the rest of my body. My eyes nearly went wide with shock when I took him in. His brown hair matched his glistening brown eyes. He wore a brown suit of cotton.

"Good evening, Sarah," he said, and I nearly melted. His voice made me feel as if I was butter that had been left too long in the sun.

"Good evening Peter," I replied. He looked me up and down with a peculiar shine in his eye; one I hoped was love.

"Well, shall we be off?" he asked, and signaled the driver to move. Conversation throughout the carriage ride was sparse and awkward, but I assumed it was because he loved me so much. If only I had known.

Once the carriage stopped a footman opened the door, revealing Town Hall in all its glory. Peter got out, and then held out his hand for me.

"Come along, dearest. We mustn't keep everyone waiting." I stepped out and he escorted me inside. The enchanting music echoed in the rafters and the entire room was a kaleidoscope. Almost immediately I saw Hope standing in a corner. She waved us over with one of those energetic gestures that sometimes made me want to run for the hills.

"Darling, you simply must meet my best friend." I grasped Peter's hand and dragged him over to where she stood.

He looked at her differently than he looked at me.

"Hope Johnson, Peter Hoppson. There. Now you are properly introduced." I said.

"Dearest, would you care for a dance?" Peter inquired, speaking to me, but staring at Hope.

"Of course," I answered, and he whisked me away. We put on our masks and began to dance. We danced almost the entire night away. You know how people say when you truly love each other, it seems as if you are the only people in the whole room? I believed they were wrong, because I was acutely aware of every minute detail.

Peter interrupted my thoughts with, "Hope hasn't danced all night."

"I do suppose that is quite awful. Why don't you ask her?" I suggested. I turned to find her, but she was talking quite animatedly to a mysterious stranger, who then pulled her onto the floor.

"Looks like someone beat you to it," I commented. He twirled me, and we frolicked some more.

Finally, the host announced that it was time for the final dance, the King and Queen's dance. Everyone had to dance with a totally new partner. The host would proclaim one couple as King and Queen of the ball. I recommended that Peter ask Hope, as she was the only other lady in his acquaintance present. So I walked off the floor to the sidelines, where those without partners stood.

I felt someone poke me and turned to find the mysterious stranger Hope had danced with, standing with an outstretched arm.

"May I have this dance?" He so courteously asked. His voice was deep, yet vaguely familiar. I searched my memory but could not find anyone to fit his description.

"You may," I consented, and placed my hand in his. I felt a slight tingle as I did so; I only supposed it was nervousness. The music started and I studied my partner. He was well built and had gorgeous blue eyes that peeped through the eyeholes of his mask. His blonde locks curled slightly at the end of his ponytail, and he danced with a certain precision.

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3…

"Have you lived in New York all your life?" he inquired.

I was surprised by his question but managed to reply, "That is an odd question. It's only been my home for the past six years or so. What about you?"

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3…

"No. I've only just moved here."

"Well, what did you do before?"

"I was an officer in the Continental Army under the Marquis de Lafayette."

"Is that so?" I recalled that James had mentioned he worked there too. "I had a friend who served under Lafayette as well."

"Oh. Can I ask you a question?"

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3…

"You've already asked me two." I replied.

"Does your friend always talk so much?"

"Yes, but after a while you get used to the chatter. Why do you ask?"

"Because she's said more to me in this one night than every else I've ever met combined."

"I think she likes you."

"Well that's bad."

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm in love with someone else."

"Oh, that's dreadful predicament you've gotten yourself into. Does she love you back?"

"I don't know. I haven't exactly seen her in a while."

"What were you doing asking Hope to dance if you already love this other girl?"

"I thought it was the gentlemanly thing to do. She'd not danced the entire evening."

"Well, that certainly was heroic, but I pray for your sake that she does not know your name."

"Why? Is that a bad thing?"

"Hope has a history of infatuations."

"Well then, I am afraid I am in a heap of trouble. She knows my name."

"If she didn't, you'd just remain the mysterious stranger and it would pass in a week. I pity you." The waltz finally stopped, and the host strode forward to the small stage.

"The King and Queen of the Spring Ball is the couple completely decked out in blue." He pointed straight to us. My partner seemed genuinely surprised. Apparently he didn't think his dancing was up to snuff. He led me to the stage where we were each given a crown of flowers.

"Thank you," I accepted.

"I'm not particularly fond of monarchies but thanks anyways," My partner responded. We descended back into the crowd where I returned to Peter, who escorted me home.

I almost fell asleep on the ride back. It was, after all, almost midnight. Once back at my abode I collapsed upon my bed and drifted off to sleep, with wonderful thoughts whirling around in my head.


	3. The Trial

Author's Note: Wow. I never thought this story would be so popular. Well, I've got nothing else to say, so....

Disclaimer: I still don't own it.

* * *

Of Evenings in the Woods

Part 2

The Trial

_The Next Day…_

I sat upon a couch in the sitting room the next morning embroidering a pillow. Once finished it would read "Actions Speak Louder Than Words." Mother sat across from me working on a sampler. I picked a new thread and passed it through the eye of my needle, which if you didn't know, is easier said than done.

"By the way dear," Mother began as I stitched quite carefully. "A young man called on you yesterday, but you were out."

"Who?" I asked.

"A Mr. Hiller," she said, and I pricked myself with the needle. "I believe."

"James is in town?" I chipped in. "We should pop in and visit him."

It was at this point that Hope burst through the sitting room door with a loud crash.

"Sarah! You must come quick!" she commanded. I lay my pillow on the sofa.

"But why?" I inquired. "Whatever is the matter?"

She wrung her hands and said sheepishly, "It's my father, more or less. It involves you as well. I'll explain in the carriage." She turned and flew out of the room. Figuratively speaking of course- Hope can fly about as much as you or I.

"Oh dear!" I exclaimed. "This really must be serious." I quickly jumped up, followed suit, and without a moment's hesitation leaped into to the waiting carriage.

"So what is it?" I prodded.

"Before I tell you, I should warn you. You might hate me after this. And everything that has happened was completely unintenional."

"Hope, you're prevaricating again. Just tell me."

"This morning I was seated in the sitting room, much as you were, when the butler announced I had a visitor. I nearly jumped, for I thought the man from last night had returned. To my surprise, Mr. Hoppson appearred at the door. I thought maybe he was looking for you, and I asked him so. He said no. And then he… then he…"

"Come on. Spit it out. Nothing you say will offend me." I instructed.

"He… he…"

"You're beating around the bush. He…"

"He… proposed to me."

"He WHAT?" I shouted as her sentence registered in my head.

"You must have done something while you two were dancing!" I insinuated. I could feel the colour rising to my cheeks.

"See! I knew you'd react this way!" Hope buried her head in her hands. I calmed myself down, even though I was ready to strangle her.

"Sorry, it's just the shock. Continue."

"I was puzzled, but immediately answered no. I don't love him, you do. I stormed out of the room, with my father in hot pursuit. He demanded I marry Mr. Hoppson. I responded with a clear cut no. Then I explained why. But he remained furious none the less. He believes that my marrying Mr. Hoppson will be beneficial. So now he's dragged us all to the Mayor's to sort this out!" The carriage suddenly jolted to a stop and I saw that we were outside Mayor Matthews' residence.

"So why am I here?" I asked as we stepped out.

"For moral support, and I'm hoping that if Mr. Hoppson sees you he will come to his senses," she admitted. "But mostly for moral support." Our shoes clicked away on the cobblestone pathway.

"I highly doubt your plan will work. Through his letters I learned that he is quite stubborn. But we can hope, can't we?" A man opened the front door for us and pointed to the door at the end of the hallway.

"You know, your fellow seemed very interesting last night." I commented. "Although I never did learn his name."

"Oh, that's quite simple," she responded as we opened the door. "His name is…"

We passed through the door at that last part, and a blonde man who could only be described as a grown-up version of James Hiller stood up with his arms outstretched and interrupted Hope.

"Why, Sarah Phillips, is that you? Long time no see!"

"James!" I cried out. I ran towards him and nearly tackled him while enveloping him in a much needed hug.

"I was beginning to think I'd never see you again!" I told him.

"Well, I did write…"

"But writing is not the same as meeting in person and you know that!" I reprimanded.

At this point Hope interjected, with a hint of jealousy in her voice. "Sarah? Why are you hugging Mr. Hiller and referring to him by his first name?"

"Oh, be quiet, Hope. You're ruinning the moment. I haven't seen my dear friend in seven years."

"Friend?"

"Yes. James was the apprentice of Dr. Franklin."

"Oh."

I let go of James, but he was still hugging me.

"James, you can let go now."

"Seven years without a hug from anyone, Sarah," He reminded me.

"Oh. Right. You may continue your hug, but I warn you, I have to sit down at some point." The strange tingly feeling that had returned from seven years of absence appearred yet again as I felt the warmth of his body against mine. But he'd been hug deprived, and I couldn't leave him to suffer. I turned to see the agitated look on Hope's face. I gave a smile of remorse. Footsteps sounded through the hallway. I quickly realized that Mayor Mathews was coming.

"James, I need to sit down now."

"Oh right." He released me and returned to his seat, still blushing. Hope waved me over to a small wooden chair near the back where I could watch the proceedings. I suspected she was still upset when she sat in a comfortable, puffy chair.

Opposite of James sat Jacob, with look of annoyance on his face. Obviously he thought there was no reason to even be here. He appearred perfect, even with that perpetual grimace attatched to his face. I smiled at him and his frown deepened. As a consequence, I frowned as well. James smiled at me and I brightened. Hope just glowered.

The door swung open and Mayor Mathews walked inside, followed closely by Hope's father.

"So, Mr. Johnson," the mayor began. "Why have you come to bother me before my daughter's big day? She's getting married tomorrow, you know."

"Yes," Mr. Johnson sighed. "The whole town knows. But I would not bother you with a frivolous problem. It involves my own daughter, Hope." Jacob stands and Mr. Johnson displays him like you would fine china.

"This, good sir, is Jacob Hoppson. He has my permission to marry Hope." Mr. Johnson paused and pointed an accusing finger towards James. "But this man…this man has bewitched my daughter. She will not give her consent. She claims to love Mr. James Hiller and won't have anything to do with Mr. Hoppson. I beg the new privelege of New York. She will marry Mr. Hoppson or become a nun."

Hope gave a gasp and stood up.

"What do you say Hope?" Mr. Mathews inquired. "Mr. Hoppson is a fine gentleman."

"So is Mr. Hiller," Hope replied tartly.

"But your father deems Mr. Hoppson better."

"I wish my father would but look with my eyes."

"Rather your eyes must with his judgement look."

"Please, tell me. Must I be a nun if I refuse to wed Mr. Hoppson?"

"Yes, I am afraid so. He is your father… tell us your deciscion tomorrow morning, the day of my daughter's wedding."

"Relent, Mr. Hiller. She will be my bride," Jacob predicted. I tried to keep the tears inside, but they simply would not listen to me.

"Relent!" James cried as he too stood. "I have! I don't even know Miss Johnson that well, but I do know she's delusional if she believes I love her. My heart is already taken." He turned his head at that last part and stared at me. For what reason I could not guess. He didn't have to be so blunt about it, I thought. Poor Hope's feelings will be dashed to pieces.

"See! Mr. Hiller does not love you, darling! Just marry Mr. Hoppson." Her father concluded.

"Yes! I beg of you, marry someone other than me. But be careful, Sarah's heart is fragile." James added.

"Mr. Hoppson, is it true that you were once enamoured of Miss Phillips?" The mayor asked.

"It is true," Jacob confessed. "But that time has passed, and I have seen the light. I love Hope now." I faced the wall so Jacob could not see the tears streaming down my face.

"Well, let us leave and let Hope decide. We'll hear from her tomorrow." The mayor, Mr. Johnson, and Jacob filed out of the room, leaving Hope, James and I behind.

"Why are your cheeks so pale?" James asked me.

"Probably for lack pf rain, which I could well.

Grant them tempest from my eyes." Hope answered. James and I looked at each other confusedly.

"The question was directed towards Sarah. Need I remind you that I don't even know you? Get it through your head. I love someone else." He put bluntly.

"Oh cross! Too high to be enthralled to low," She answered.

"Are you even listening?"

"O spite! Too old to be engaged to young."

"Seriously? Have you even heard a word I'm saying? And why are you quoting Shakespeare?"

"Oh, to chose love by another's eyes!"

"Really. What do you hear when I open my mouth?"

"If then true lovers have ever been crossed

It stands as an edict in destiny.

Then let us teach our trial patience

Because it is a customary cross,

As due to love as thoughts and dreams and sighs,

Wishes and tears, poor fancy's followers."

"My word Sarah! Do you hear what she's saying? She's twisting my words. I bet she's not paying attention to anything I'm saying. Watch. Well Hope, the sky is blue and pigeons have wings. Skakespear was a mighty fine writer, however you use his quotes. How about some coffee?"

"My good James, I swear to thee by Cupid's strongest bow,

By his best arrow with the golden arrow,

By the simplicity of Venus's doves,

By that which knitteth souls and prospers lovers,

And by that fire which burned the Carthage Queen

When the false Trojan under sail was seen,

By all the vows that ever men have broke,

(In number more than ever women spoke),

In that same place thou hast appointed me,

Tonight truly will I meet with thee." She took his hand in hers and gazed into his eyes lovingly. James appeared uncomfortable and removed his hand.

"Do you hear her, Sarah? She's delusional!" He exclaimed.

"Fair Sarah, I did not see you there. Where are you going?" Hope said, finally noticing that I was standing right next to her.

"Don't call me beautiful," I instructed. "Peter loves your visage."

"I frown upon him, yet he loves me still!" Hope told me.

"How I wish my smiles would work." I remarked.

"I give him curses, yet he gives me love," She said.

"My methods obviously do not work."

"The more I hate, the more he follows me."

"The more I love, the more he hates me!" I cried into my hands. James looked genuinely concerned and comforted me.

"His folly is no fault of mine." She consoled.

"None but your beauty!" I wailed.

"Take comfort." She said excitedly. "He no more shall see my face.

James and I will fly this place.

Before the time I did James see,

Seemed New York as a paradise to me.

Oh then what graces my love to dwell

That he hath turned a heaven unto a …"

"Do you hear her Sarah!" James interrupted. "She's raving mad. Tell me Sarah: how do you stand her company?"

"And in the wood where often you and I

Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie,

Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet,

There my James and myself shall meet,

And thence from New York turn away our eyes,

To seek new friends and stranger companies.

Farewll, sweet playfellow. Pray thou for us,

And good luck grant thee thy Peter." She finished. She skipped out the door, leaving James and I behind.

"I don't remember ever lying on primrose beds!" I shouted to her. The door closed shut, and I doubted I was going to get an answer once I heard her humming.

"Well Sarah." James began. "Tell me your secret. How do you stand her?"

"Normally she's not delusional." I answered truthfully.

"Obviously!" He shouted. "She's gone insane if she thinks I want to elope with her! Well, I must go…"

He strolled out the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts. It was there that I decided I would tell Peter of Hope's plan in the hope (no pun intended) that he would forget all about her and love me. I walked out of the room brimming with confidence. I would find love tonight!


	4. An Interruption

_Of Evenings in the Woods_

_An Interruption_

_Cher reader, _

_Je know that vous are expecting more of Sarah's story, but I have charmed my way into this book for one reason only. If I don't tell my half of the story I am afraid vous will become terribly confused. Behind the main plot lies another; unobserved by most. Only with my account will it ever make sense. _

_Je m'appelle Henri Richard Maurice Dutoit LeFebvre, descendant of the great Robert Bontype, or as you English call him, Robin Goodfellow. Like my great grandfather before me, I too serve the leader of Faerie. Vous may be wondering why I speak so much Français and vous are right to do so. _

_When Oberon died his son moved Faerie to France. In time, Faerie went through a revolution and became a democracy. We were inspired by that short-lived revolution in Poland. Oberon's grandson, Sébastien, was elected President and had Faerie moved to the Colonies. Mon pére, his assistant, stayed behind to help with organization. _

_Finally the only faeries left in France were mon pére, ma mére, et moi. I was deux cent ans at the time, which is equivalent to eight years old in your time. We all got on a boat, but mamman et papa died along the way. The Captain of the vessel forced me to be his servant until I was rescued by Doctor Benjamin Franklin, whom I later figured out was one of my own kind. _

_I lived with Doctor Franklin, his other two wards, Sarah Phillips and James Hiller, and Moses, his printer extraordinaire, in his Philadelphia home. We lived together for three years. In 1776 James left for the Continental Army, leaving both him and Sarah distraught. Even though it was plain to everyone else in town that they loved each other, they were too blind to see it. Sarah left a year later to live with her mother. _

_When Sébastien died Dr. Franklin was elected President, and I became his assistant. At the time of Sarah's story, I had finally passed my 205-year growth spurt, which meant I had entered adolescence. I looked as if I were any normal human 18-year old. Unfortunately, I was to remain in this state for another 100 years, so I would soon have to disappear and start somewhere else. _

_Another event that had a great effect on Sarah's story was the fact that President Franklin was in a fight with the Speaker of the Faerie, Thérèse La Martinique. They disagreed strongly on the subject of fiscal policy. The two had even taken to avoiding each other like the other was infected with the plague. _

_On the evening in question President Franklin told me to prepare a glen for a meeting with his supporters. When I arrived there I found Michelle, an assistant to the Speaker, already arranging the boughs in the shape of benches. _

"_Bonsoir Michelle!" I called to her. "Ce qui est vous jusqu'á?"_

"_Je me promène, en faisant le vallon prêt pour la réunion du Speaker." She answered. _

"_The President doth keep his revels here tonight. _

_Take heed the Speaker not come within his sight." I told her, switching to English. _

_She turned to me, and looked me up and down, and pointed an accusing finger at me. "Else I be mistaken, you are that famous sprite, Henri Richard Maurice Dutoit LeFebvre."_

"_Je suis il," I replied. _

"_I knew it!" She said, and returned to preparing the bower. _

"_Watch out!" We cried simultaneously. _

"_Here comes the President!" I added. _

"_And here my mistress!" Michelle said. Both President Franklin and Speaker La Martinique entered the clearing. They visions alighted upon each other and their brows creased. _

"_Speaker Thérèse, how very nice to see you," President Franklin greeted coldly. _

"_I could say the same," she responded. "My supporters, let us away. I have forsworn this man's company." She turned to leave, but soon both Speaker and President were hurling insults at each other. Finally Thérèse had enough abuse and left. _

"_That infuriating woman!" President Franklin yelled. "Why, she makes me want to punch a few boulders! Henri! Get over here!"_

_I scampered over and answered, "Yes?"_

"_There is a flower that has become a power unlike any other. It can make anyone, including our darling friend Thérèse, fall in love. Find it; we shall use it to change the fiscal policy! We shall distract Thérèse with the power of amour!" _

"_I'll put a girdle around the Earth in forty minutes!" I assured him. And off I flew. _

_After twenty minutes of flight I came upon Greece, our ancestral home. Moonlight streamed into a clearing of olive trees, illuminating their leaves and a small pedestal. Upon the pedestal was a tiny golden arrow, around which was growing a blood red rose. I plucked the rose and returned to New York, where I found President Franklin seated upon a boulder, with small punch marks on it. _

_Upon my appearance President Franklin leaped from the boulder like a small child anxious for a new toy. _

"_Did you get it? Did you get it?" He asked with glee. _

"_Oui," I answered, and presented the rose. _

"_Magnifique," he commended, and took the rose within his grasp. "With the force of this rose we shall remake the fiscal policy. _

_He turned to me and said, "Here, take some of its juice and rub it upon the eyes of a New York fellow. He loves not the one who loves him." I took the juice from his hand and put it into a small bottle. _

_I ran off in the opposite direction in search of New Yorkers. In the process of my search I nearly tripped over a girl. She was petite, with brunette hair. This must be the girl he was talking about, I thought. _

_On the other side of the clearing where the girl was laying was a tall blonde man. Upon closer inspection I found that this man was, in fact, my old friend James. James… and the nameless girl? This simply wouldn't do, I thought to myself. I knew he loved Sarah. So I disobeyed President Franklin and left without applying the juice. _


	5. The Madness Begins

Well, here's Part Four.

* * *

Of Evenings in the Woods

Part Four

The Madness Begins

_That very evening…_

"Peter!" I panted. "Slow down! I cannot keep up!"

Peter, who was far ahead of me, turned around and spat, "I did not ask you to follow me!"

"But I was the one who told you she was leaving!" I shouted.

"I do not care for you!" he exploded. He walked back to me and slapped my face, sending me to the ground. "Leave, Miss Phillips, before I do you further harm."

"No," I whimpered. "I love you. At least let me follow you!"

"I hate the very sight of you!" he bellowed. "Good day Miss Phillips!" He stormed away through some bushes. When I was sure he was gone I gathered my skirts and picked myself up. 'Oh well then,' I thought. I wondered which direction I should take in order to avoid Peter, since he was clearly in a bad mood. I picked that which I deemed best and let my thoughts envelop me.

The moonlight drifted down from the canopy and illuminated the forest for me. The bark of the trees felt rough against my skin as I rested against one. On the other side of this tree was a clearing. I thought it would be best to move through the clearing as quick as possible in order to avoid attracting attention to myself. In the process of running through I nearly ran over James, who was lying down on the forest floor.

'Oh no!' I thought. 'Tell me Peter has not killed him in a fit of maniacal rage!'

"James!" I cried. "If you live, wake up!" I shook him violently. His eyelids fluttered, and he groaned.

"Not now, Patterson…" he yawned.

"I'm not Patterson you idiot! It's me, Sarah," I whispered. He jolted awake and scrambled to his feet.

"Sarah! Thank goodness you're here! I could kiss you!" He smiled.

I ignored that last part and said, "James, what are you doing here? I thought you didn't love Hope."

"I don't," he answered. "I was kidnapped."

"Kidnapped!" I shouted. "How dreadful!"

"Shh!" He clamped his hand over my mouth and that strange tingly feeling again made an appearance.

"I'll reveal all, but first we must leave before my _beloved_ wakes," he said sarcastically, motioning to a sleeping Hope. We walked out of the clearing, so close together that to the untrained eye we would appear as a couple out for a pleasure walk. Which, of course, we weren't.

Once there was a considerable distance between Hope and ourselves I broke the silence. "So tell me this horrid story of yours."

"Well, I went to sleep at night, like we all tend to do in the evening, and I woke up around eleven to this strange knocking sound on my walls. I opened my window; lo and behold, there was Hope, dressed like she's going traveling, with a knapsack.

'James!' she calls to me. 'Are you ready?'

'Ready for what?' I reply.

'Our elopement,' she answers matter-of-factly, as if she is actually sane.

'I don't think you quite understand,' I told her. 'I… don't… love… you!' I slammed my window shut and went back to sleep. Next thing I know, I'm walking through the woods at O'Dark Thirty to who knows where with a delusional girl who has questionable motives. Finally Hope began to tire I suggested we rest. I conked out from lack of sleep, but luckily she did too. That's when you came along. I must admit, you've earned yourself the position of knight in shining armor."

"Is that so?" I asked.

We promenaded on in silence until James commented, "It's so sad."

"What's sad?" I wondered.

"How we are all victims of unrequited love."

"How so?" I asked him.

"Haven't you noticed? You love Peter, he loves Hope, Hope loves me, and I love… I love…" He trickled off.

I turned to him and inquired, "Who do you love, James?"

A horrible thought pierced my skull. "Don't tell me you love that horrid Emily girl from a few years back."

"Oh, Sarah, don't be daft." A sly smirk danced on his lips. "Don't tell me you're jealous, Sarah."

"What are you talking about?" I denied, as the color rose to my cheeks. "I'm not jealous."

"Come on, Sarah. Do you deny that you've never loved me?"

I stayed silent. After all, I've told you all that at one point I did love him.

"And how about now?" he continued.

I opened my mouth and answered, "No. I love Peter." And the walk went on.

That was the plan anyways. I only got to the opening my mouth part before James interrupted me and proclaimed, "I love you, Sarah." And before I could blink I felt his lips up against mine. The insolent man had the nerve to kiss me!

Of course, I now must confess that I loved the feel of his lips on mine. I was tentative at first, but began deepen it. His hands on my shoulders pulled me into an embrace that I cannot help but to describe as wonderful. My hands somehow magically found their way into his hair, and I kissed him with even more fervor. I even almost forgot about Peter.

Until I heard a familiar voice resound across the clearing.

"Sarah, my dear, what in the world are you doing kissing Mr. Hiller?"


	6. Things Get Strange

Author's Note: I apologize most sincerely for about how late this is getting out. You see, I"m in the Marching Band AKA I have no life. But I hope you enjoy this!

Of Evenings in the Woods

Things Get Strange

So, where did I leave off? Oh right. James and I were kissing passionately in the forest.

"Sarah, my dear, what in the world are you doing kissing Mr. Hiller?" I immediately forced myself from James's lips and stood to his side. I slipped my hand into James's.

"Peter," I breathed, breath quite ragged from the excitement. "It is no business of yours on whom I should bestow my kisses, for they are mine to give. Where is your love?" I added tartly.

"I do most certainly believe it is my business," he retorted, "as I intend to marry you, and I will not have you stolen by this impertinent young man."

"Wait a minute," I cut in, surprised. "Marry me?"

"Yes… you didn't let me finish," he explained. "As to your question, my love is standing right in front of me. I love you, Sarah." And with that he stepped forward and crashed his lips against mine. This kiss was the opposite of James's. Where his had me in raptures, thinking of fireworks and rainbows, Peter's felt like it was raining on my heart. Realizing what was happening; I quickly pushed Peter back, released James's hand, and ran to the other side of the grove.

"Oh, this is all too confusing!" I moaned. "What on Earth is going on?" Suddenly an unseen realization came over me and my demeanor became that of an upset woman.

"Oh, I see!" I insinuated. "Neither of you love me. You're mocking me. Well, I can tell you, it's not working!" It occurred to me at this point that I might have been jumping to conclusions, but in the heat of the moment, my thoughts became words, and no matter how much I wanted to change them, I could not make time travel backwards.

"Sarah, what are you talking about?" James asked, puzzled. "I love you, truly I do. My ardent love for you is larger than the void of space."

"I know naught of which you speak." Peter stated. "My love is triple the amount of this poor fellow's."

"Again with these falsehoods!" I cried.

"Sarah, why don't you believe me?" James asked me. "I've loved you since I first laid eyes on you, back in 1773."

"All lies!" Peter accused. "All lies, I tell you. This man always tries to steal that which I deem precious." Once again they left me feeling hopelessly confused. I knew that Peter could not possibly love me, because earlier that night he'd professed his extreme hatred of me. And James… I did not know what to think. Could he really have been in love with me all these years?

"James, oh there you are. I thought a wild beast had gotten you!" Hope exclaimed as she walked in on our argument. James groaned in annoyance when she attempted to drag him off. Hope was momentarily detained from her mission by James's obstinacy, yet she persisted. It took five almost pulls before she finally realized James wanted to remain stationary.

"James, dear, whatever is the matter?" She asked, concerned.

James cleared his throat and answered, "Hope, I don't love you. I love Sarah." I cringed, knowing the torrent of anger she would likely release against me, but she just laughed.

"Ah, James… how you are a kidder," she giggled, and punched him playfully on the arm.

"Kid about what? I'm being perfectly serious!" Hope stopped midchuckle when she saw his serious façade.

"I don't believe you. I want proof." She said. James wasted no time in providing her thus. He embraced me and brought his lips against mine. I felt myself beginning to melt again. Of course, it helped that James broke the kiss at that moment.

"There," he said, voice husky and breathing ragged. "What more proof could you want?" Hope's lip quivered, and then she burst into tears.

"Whatever happened to you promises?" She whimpered.

"Promises?" James exploded. "What promises?"

"Kiss me, my sweet!" Peter cried, advancing on me.

"I'm so confused!" I shouted to the sky.

"You…" Hope insinuated. "You did this! You've stolen my love!" She moved toward me, anger evident in her eyes.

"I see how you did this. It is because you are so tall, is it not?" She accused.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," I commented, shaking with fear.

"Yet I am not so little that I cannot rip your eyes out!" She screamed. I ran and hid behind the two men.

"Gentlemen, I pray you not let her any closer. I am meek, and she is a vixen!"

"I'll protect you Sarah," James assured me.

"Ha!" Peter laughed. "This lily-livered snake could protect you as well as a cabbage. I'll make sure you stay safe."

"You want to duel on that?" James challenged.

"Bring it on!" Peter accepted. James glared at Peter, and the two ran off, staring at each other with beady eyes all the way. With no one left to protect me, Hope giggled maniacally and charged, hand poised to scratch my eyes out. I flew away, a fruit fly from the bat, and dared not look back. Unfortunately, my speed was my downfall. I tripped over an abnormally large tree root and sprained my ankle. I couldn't walk; the pain was too much. So I just sat on the dank ground, bemoaning my fate.

I sat there for a while, listening intently to the sounds of the forest for any signs of human life. When nothing happened, I began to cry, and the rhythmic beat lulled me to sleep. My subconscious wandered near and far, in strange dreams of night. But the thought that, err rather, the memory that recurring was of James proclaiming his love for me. I wondered, could he really be enamored of little old me? The girl he always poked and prodded, and annoyed?

* * *

I later reached the state in which one is conscious, yet one is not yet awake. I felt the steady thumping of the ground. Yet I was sure that forest floors do not thump. The ground was softer than I remembered it, and it smelled of… ink. Two strange roots were cradling me. I heard leaves crunching nearby, and thought perhaps that someone had come to rescue me from my dastardly mistake. Yet these footsteps always remained the same distance away. This perplexed me so.

Slowly and surely, my eyelids fluttered, and in the dim morning light (as the sun rested on the horizon) I saw that the ground was not the ground at all. In fact, it was a man's chest. He was carrying me.

"Sarah, you're awake," he said boisterously. My savior obviously had very poor manners. I tilted my head to get a better view of him. Bright blue eyes blinked back at me.

"James," I yawned. "What happened?"

"I was going to ask you the very same question," he replied. "I woke up from a deep sleep and went off to find someone, preferably of the human race, only to nearly trip over you in the process. I saw that you had sprained your ankle, so I've been carrying you ever since."

"I'd love to tell you what happened," I responded. "But I am afraid I cannot tell you the answer. I must have tripped over a root while I was running from Mr. Hoppson earlier this evening. I must have hit my head, because everything else is so blurry and vague that I feel as if it were a dream."

"I had a strange vision as well. What happened in yours?" he asked me.

"Well," I began. "There was this maniacal laughter that was threaded through my dream's loom. What was odder was that this chuckle sounded quite like Henri's."

"That is strange. But you're prevaricating."

"You… you were there."

"Mm-hm."

"You said you loved me." James suddenly halted. He searched my eyes intently.

"And what did you think of that?" he asked me.

I paused for a while, searching for an answer.

"I did not know what to think," I finally responded. "It all happened so fast." James' face fell, dejection covering every corner of his face. He began to walk again.

"So, you don't love me?" he asked.

"I did not say that. I merely stated that I was confused. Let me finish my story."

"Okay," he agreed begrudgingly.

"You… you… kissed me… and it made me feel wonderful. But then Mr. Hoppson interrupted and proposed to me. I thought you two were making fun of me, and then Hope came and tried to drag you off. You stood obstinate, and declared your love for me, and after some proof, she became angry. A fierce argument arose and everyone ran off."

"So, you don't love me."

"Good heavens, Mr. Hiller!" I exclaimed. "Why is this so important? What about that other girl you told me about at the Spring Ball?"

James sighed, and said, "I wanted to do this more romantically, but I guess this will have to do. Sarah, poor oblivious Sarah, it is a matter of great importance because the girl I was speaking of was _you_. I am hopelessly, irrevocably, undeniably, head-over- heels in love with you. Will you marry me?"

"Oh," I said bashfully, pink rising to my ears. And without hesitation I replied, "Of course I'll marry you!" Then I took the opportunity to abandon propriety and kissed him.

"Sarah, have you seen Mr. Hoppson?" Hope's voice jumped into my ear. I gasped for air and blushed, still in James' arms. Hope was standing a few feet away, trying to remain composed, no doubt scarred by the public display of affection.

"Oh hello Mr. Hiller. I am terribly sorry for kidnapping you. I was a young and foolish girl back then." She paused and I could see James about to say that that was last night, but I glared at him and he held his tongue. "I have seen the light and his name is Peter Hoppson."

"You… love… Mr. Hoppson?" I repeated, trying to comprehend this strange turn of events. Why, only yesterday, she loathed him with the passion of a thousand suns.

"No, we have not seen him," James answered for me. No sooner had he uttered that sentence did Mr. Hoppson blunder into the glen. He ran over to Hope, and embraced her.

"Hope my dear! I was afraid something terrible had happened to you." He said, out of breath.

"No, I'm fine." She replied, and hugged him back. Mr. Hoppson was quite alarmed at the lack of slap aimed in his direction.

"You are not still infatuated with that Hiller fellow?" He interrogated.

"No," she replied. "That was a passing fancy. You sit on my heart now."

Mr. Hoppson's mouth dropped down in shock, but he soon recovered himself.

"Then kiss me, my sweet!" And they did precisely that. James and I couloured and he turned us around.

"Oh, Sarah, I have something for you." James put me down gently and pulled a golden ring out of his pocket.

"I kept this for whenever I gathered enough courage to propose to you."

"Oh, it's marvelous!" I exclaimed, in rapture. James slid the ring onto my finger.

"There," he declared. "Now we are officially engaged."

"Don't you think we should return to the city before we are missed?" I asked.

"Excellent idea," James commended. And with that, my crutch and I limped back to New York, cheeks glowing.


End file.
